Heroes and Thieves
by moonlightandmagnolias85
Summary: "So far, the day is like any other. Birds are singing, and the occasional snap of a twig puts her on alert, but nothing unusual seems to be lurking to interrupt her solitude. So when she reaches the edge of the river and finds a body on the bank, she is more than a little shocked." A Robin Hood-esque/romantic fantasy/historical (self-indulgent) fiction. Eventually rated M.


**Hello all! So, I wanted to preface this story with a little note.**

**I have NO idea what is happening here. Seriously. I've never written something like this before. The best way I can describe it is a mash-up fantasy/historical fiction/Robin Hood-esque, slightly inspired by my newfound love of _Outlander (_mostly the show)...and. Yeah. I just don't know where this came from. It's been stewing for nearly half a year, and I was very close to just scrapping the idea, but I kind of wanted to see if I could write something so different that I've never tackled before. It's a bit messy, and updates will probably be slow, but I hope you enjoy it anyway. :)**

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><p><strong>I<strong>

The trees have just begun losing their leaves, making a soft blanket on the ground for her to silently pad along the forest floor, on the day that her life permanently changes for the second time. (She prefers not to think of the first very often.) She is alone, as usual, and cautiously makes her way down to the river to collect her daily supply of water. When she found her tiny, dilapidated shelter in the middle of the woods nine months ago, she had to make a choice - camp in the open to be closer to the water, or face the trek each day in order to keep a roof over her head. She chose the roof. She had too much experience with sleeping in the open to pass up an actual roof and four walls.

So far, the day is like any other. Birds are singing, and the occasional snap of a twig puts her on alert, but nothing unusual seems to be lurking to interrupt her solitude.

So when she reaches the edge of the river and finds a body on the bank, she is more than a little shocked. Her eyes immediately dart back and forth, scanning the tree line on both sides of the water for anyone else, and when she sees no one, Eponine looks at the ground instead. There are no footprints on the bank, which means no one else has been here, besides herself and this apparently dead young man, sprawled in the mud. The river is calm, but further upstream are rapids and rocks that _do not _make for good swimming. Perhaps he fell in and drowned?

She bites her lip, thinking. Can she just leave him here? It would be easier. But perhaps people are looking for him, and if they find him where he lays, it's a little too close to her own makeshift home for comfort. Also, she doesn't fancy drinking water contaminated by a dead, decomposing corpse. It's probably best to bury him, or at least try to drag his body further downstream. Eponine sighs, glaring at the mass of matted, dirty curls on top of the corpse's head – burial is out of the question. She doesn't have the proper tools, and truthfully, that's just too much work and effort to exert for a stranger. She hasn't even checked her traps today, and that must be done. So, downstream it is for this unfortunate young man. She feels a twinge of sympathy and briefly wonders who he is and where he came from before she pushes it away and gets to work.

Eponine kneels curiously down next to him, thinking that he's rather pretty for a dead man. He looks fairly fit, too – not the kind of man to accidentally stumble into a river and drown, at any rate. His clothes are nice, if a bit worn and dirty from laying in the mud; and if he's dead, she reasons, he really has no use for any money he has on his person. Cautiously, she lifts the corner of his jacket, reaching inside to feel for any hidden pockets and money he may be carrying. Nothing. Not even a ring on his cold, stiff fingers.

"Really?" she mumbles irritably. "You're causing me more trouble than you're worth." She reaches down to his hips to pat his pockets, intent on her task. Before she realizes what's happening, a cold and very firm hand tightly grabs her wrist.

She gasps and tries to pull away, but unsteady in the ankle deep water and slippery rocks, only manages to fall flat on her bottom with an undignified squeak. Wide blue eyes stare straight at her, and Eponine feels her cheeks heat uncomfortably, embarrassed to be caught trying to blatantly rob what she thought was a dead man. Not exactly moral behavior.

"Have you found what you're looking for?" His voice is hoarse, and as cold as his hand, and it is only now that he has turned his head to look at her that she notices the blood matted in the golden curls on the right side of his head.

"I...I apologize, Sir. You were so still and cold that I thought you were dead." She tries again to tug her arm out of his grip, but he holds on steadfastly.

"As you can see, I am not." He studies her for another minute, and must come to some conclusion, for he abruptly releases her wrist and slowly sits up. He winces and gingerly touches the side of his head. "Clearly, you are not inclined to offer much help to strangers, but I am afraid I may need your assistance to stand."

Eponine glares, a little offended, and stands, holding her hand out to the young man. "I thought you were dead," she says again. "I apologize."

The man takes her hand and struggles to his feet, this time clutching his side, in obvious pain. "It isn't becoming to rob a dead man."

She ignores his remark, and asks instead, "What happened to you?"

"An unfortunate run-in with a sword, initially." He hisses as he peels his shirt away from the wound on his side, and Eponine bends over to see it more clearly. "And I suppose another run-in with some rocks in the river," he says through gritted teeth.

"Hmm." Eponine leans closer and shrugs. It is strangely common for small disputes to end in violence and death these days, though hearing it was with a sword puts her a little on edge, considering not just _anyone _carries those. She wonders if he is important enough to be missed, and if anyone will come looking for him. "It looks like it needs stitches...but unfortunately for you, I can't do that."

He raises his eyebrows at her clipped tone. "It's nice to see you have so much empathy, Miss...?" He's clearly asking for her name, and Eponine has no intention of giving it to him.

"Miss None-of-your-business. Now, if there's nothing else you need?" Eponine mock bows to him, already turning away. She doesn't need anyone knowing where she is – this man knowing her general vicinity already worries her.

"Really? You're just going to walk away from a clearly injured man in need of assistance? One that you attempted to rob, no less? And one you no doubt would have drowned while trying to dispose of my body, in your ignorance to the fact that I was still breathing. That's very noble of you."

His words are cruel, but true. Eponine stops and squeezes her eyes shut, her hands balling into fists at her sides. Not only is she embarrassed at being successfully figured out with little to no effort on his part, but there's something about this man that she just doesn't like. He's haughty, even in his wounded state, and very confident, even though Eponine could easily take him out because of his current injuries.

"You're very full of yourself," she tosses over her shoulder.

"I believe you owe me."

"And what would you have me do? I have no resources to help you." She finally turns back around to face him, her hands placed defiantly on her hips.

"I don't believe I can make it back to my camp," the man says slowly, and looks like he hates to admit it. "I hate to impose, but do you have a place where I can seek shelter for the night? Somewhere close?"

Eponine narrows her eyes and studies him. He does look a bit unsteady on his feet, underneath that confident swagger, and his skin is deathly pale. He's probably lost a lot of blood. And if she doesn't help him, she's really no better than her parents. But still, taking him to her cabin is a huge risk, one that could mean having to soon move on and find somewhere else to hide. She doesn't want anyone knowing where she is, not with such a huge price on her head.

He sees her hesitation and rolls his eyes. "When I am able to make it back to my camp, you will be handsomely paid. In gold."

It's the offer of money that firmly makes up her mind. "I have your word?"

"You have my word." Even with his injury, he manages to offer her a polite bow, one hand cradling his injured side as he straightens.

"Fine. You can stay with me tonight. Come on."

"Thank you." The man begins to trudge slowly after her, and though she's going much slower than normal, he's still having a hard time keeping up. After only a few hundred feet, Eponine can hear his labored breaths behind her and slows her pace, turning around to study him as he limps toward her. A red stain is spreading under his hand and soaking through his shirt, and Eponine sighs. His wound has reopened, and he's probably not going to make it far without her help.

"Oh, honestly," she huffs, and returns to his side, slinging his arm over her shoulder. "Put more of your weight on me, I'll help you."

He doesn't say anything, apparently too intent on keeping his feet moving, and it takes them twice as long as usual to make it back to her cabin. As they cross the threshold, Eponine feels a tingling at the back of her neck, and hopes that it isn't a premonition of her own undoing. The young man practically collapses on her bed, and before Eponine can say a word, realizes he is completely passed out. The pain and exertion must have been too much for him.

She wrinkles her nose as she surveys him and his filthy clothes. He's getting her clean, and hard won (stolen) blankets as messy as he is.

"Well, that's it then. I can't have you making everything here as dirty as you are." She bends down and lifts first one leg and then the other, pulling his boots from his feet. She then unties the lacing of his pants and tugs them down his hips, pausing momentarily to admire the view in front of her. Smirking as she tosses his pants aside, Eponine then starts trying to remove his jacket and shirt. This is much harder, since he's still out cold, and she has to maneuver both of his arms and get the garment over his head, all while trying to avoid the wound on his side. Finally, he is stripped naked, his dirty clothes laying in a pile at her feet. His wound is still oozing blood and she rummages in a trunk at the foot of her bed for an old dress to use as a bandage. The old, flimsy material tears into strips easily, but wrapping the makeshift bandage around the man's body as he lies passed out on the bed proves to be a little harder.

"Wake up," she says gently, barely nudging his shoulder. He doesn't stir.

"Wake up!" she tries louder. Still nothing.

With a shrug, Eponine slaps his cheek hard enough to sting, and the man's eyes fly open, her wrist once again firmly clasped in his hand.

"Let go," she demands. "I'm actually trying to _help _you this time. I need you to sit up so I can wrap this bandage around you."

The man slowly releases her wrist and eases himself up, with a mumbled, "Sorry." When he realizes he's naked, however, his skin flushes scarlet and he grasps at the blankets. "Where are my clothes?" he demands. "What have you done with them?"

Eponine rolls her eyes and grips his shoulders tightly, her physical strength just enough to overcome his in his weakened state. "Stop moving about! You'll hurt yourself more!" Once he's calmer, but still unhappily glaring at her, Eponine says evenly, "I removed your clothes because they were filthy. I want to bandage your wound now, and I promise I'll _wash _your clothes. Are you satisfied?"

"I don't see that I have much choice."

Eponine grins and pats his shoulder. "Now you're catching on. And don't worry, I have a brother. I've seen a naked boy before."

"I'm hardly a boy."

Eponine laughs as she begins wrapping the bandage around his torso. Her eyes travel slowly over his form and she grins impishly as she looks back into his eyes. "No, I suppose you're not."

He turns even more red, which Eponine didn't think was possible, and she almost feels sorry for causing him such embarrassment. A man that still possesses a sense of modesty is a rarity; she's certainly never met one before.

She ties and tucks the last of the bandage and surveys her handiwork. "I guess that will do if you don't move around too much."

"I don't think that will be a problem." His eyes are already drooping again, and Eponine wraps one arm around his shoulders, helping him ease back down onto the bed. She pulls the covers up and over him, looking at him thoughtfully.

"I'll check on you later, I suppose..." she begins, but stops when she realizes he's already asleep.

There's nothing more she can do to help besides share her supper, and hopefully, his wound won't become inflamed. He'll surely die in her bed if that happens, and his body will be _much _harder to dispose of under those circumstances. For now, he will have to settle for a good sleep, until she can get back to the river to haul water and check her traps before dark. If she doesn't, neither of them will have anything to eat tonight.

As she exits the cabin once more, Eponine gives her rain barrel a long glare. It is bone dry, since it hasn't rained for weeks. And of course, it would be so much easier on her today if it were full. It would also be easier if the damn well in back weren't boarded up so tight, but she gave up that hope months ago. She makes good time going back to the river for water (twice), and checking her traps, happy with catching one fat rabbit she can stew for dinner. Her vegetables are gone, the last of them eaten a week ago, and she hasn't risked going into any towns or villages to steal more yet.

When Eponine finally makes it back to the cabin, she stops just outside the door, thinking of the handsome man in her bed. He is dangerous; it doesn't take a genius to deduce that. Although violence is common these days, it is still unusual enough to cause alarm. And he doesn't seem like a commoner, either, with his polite mannerisms and patterns of speech. He also mentioned a camp, which implies there are other people there that could help him. She wonders who he is and what he did to get himself almost run through with a sword. Was it over the border in her home country of Musain, or here in Corinth? Corinth is generally calm now, since General Lamarque took power two years ago. People are happy, trade is prosperous, and the crops are healthy and plentiful this year. So what did this man do to almost get himself killed?

He is still sound asleep when she enters the cabin, and a quick hand on his forehead shows that he isn't yet running a fever, which is a good sign. Maybe things will be easy and he'll be able to simply walk away tomorrow and leave her be.

Eponine goes back outside to skin the rabbit, and as she works, a distant roll of thunder catches her attention. What she can see of the sky through the canopy of trees does look darker, but of all days for it to finally rain, today is _not _a good day. Rain will mean this stranger being stuck in her presence for much longer than necessary, if he doesn't succumb to infection. He won't make it far in nice weather with his injuries, but add pelting rain and mud to the mix and he's almost sure to be confined to the cabin for another day. Just as she finishes skinning the rabbit, the sky opens up in a deluge of rain and hail, and she hurries back inside to avoid getting soaked.

Though he still lays in the same position in her bed, the man's eyes are now open. "It's finally raining?"

"Yes. We've desperately needed it, but I wish it would have held off for another day or so." Eponine begins to prepare their dinner, still too uneasy at having this stranger in her home to completely turn her back to him. They are both silent for several minutes, listening to the rain on the roof, but it isn't a strained silence. Finally, she inquires, "You said you were injured by a sword? Why?"

"Just a little disagreement with the Kingsguard of Musain." He shrugs, as if this is an everyday sort of occurrence.

Eponine raises her eyebrows, curious, but not wanting to appear so. "The _Kingsguard?_ Of Musain? You must have done something rather daring in order to attract their attention. Yet you managed to get away."

"Probably because they thought I was as good as dead once I jumped into the river. My companions probably think so, as well, which is regrettable."

"What is your name?"

"You won't tell me yours. Why should I tell you mine?"

Eponine turns to look at him, narrowing her eyes. "I suppose I can't argue with that logic; however, do I need to worry about people coming here to look for you? Because I would really rather not be found."

"In trouble with the law yourself?"

Eponine rolls her eyes. "You're very quick to jump to conclusions."

"Or maybe I know exactly who you are."

Eponine freezes, her eyes moving restlessly over his relaxed form. Is he bluffing?

Her voice is dangerously soft when she replies. "I sincerely hope not, or else we won't be getting along half so well as this."

"I'm sorry to disappoint you, Miss Thenardier. Eponine, isn't it?" He turns his blue eyed gaze back to her, looking rather smug for her liking. She feels a muscle in her jaw twitch as he continues. "There are posters with your likeness on them plastered all over Musain. It seems that your father still seeks your whereabouts."

She doesn't answer, trying to figure out what her next move should be.

Sensing her near panic at being called out, the man says in a gentler tone, "I believe we also have a mutual friend. One Marius Pontmercy?"

For a moment, Eponine is sure she feels the earth shift beneath her feet. Her chest tightens at the mention of his name; he seems like a distant dream now, part of a life that she lived a long, long time ago. In these long months of solitude, the only thing that has gotten her through nearly unbearable nights of loneliness are her endless daydreams and memories of Marius' kind smile.

"How do you know Marius?" she asks suspiciously.

"Like I said, he's a friend. He happened to mention you when we saw one of those lovely 'Wanted' posters just earlier today."

"What did he say? Where is he now?" Eponine inwardly winces at her eager tone, and realizes she has leaned forward towards the man in her bed, as if she's trying to physically pull the information out of him.

"He said that he knows you, that he hoped you were safe, and that you're only in trouble because you were trying to help our cause. Was he right?"

Eponine's eyes widen. "_Your _cause?"

"You know – overthrowing the king, establishing a government of the people...the things you helped Marius with last year, or so he says."

"You're one of them? The Les Amis?" Eponine asks in disbelief. What are the odds that someone connected to Marius would show up on her doorstep?

"Yes. And since Marius trusts you, and I don't seem to have much choice in my current predicament, I'm choosing to trust you, as well. How do you know Marius?"

"We were neighbors. He was very kind to me when not many others were. You know who my father is if you know who I am." She goes back to preparing their strew, her throat feeling uncomfortably tight as she thinks back to those not so distant days. "Is Marius well?"

"He is. Do you know who I am, Eponine?"

"I don't know your name, if that is what you're asking. Would you care to enlighten me?"

"Not really."

"Well if you're not going to tell me anything useful, then stop talking altogether," she huffs.

He doesn't answer, and she doesn't turn to look at him again until the stew is finished. She only has one bowl and spoon, and since she doesn't have completely horrible manners, her guest will eat first. His eyes intently follow her movements as she crosses the room and hands him the food. "Here. I don't know what you're used to, but this is the best I can do."

"Thank you." He nods to her and begins to eat, taking small, measured bites. He is politeness and good manners personified, even in his state of dishabille. This one has, or had, money. Despite her annoyance with him, the longer she is in his presence, the more curious she is, especially now that she knows he is a part of the Les Amis, and friends with Marius. The Les Amis, a radical group of young men, have been causing the King of Musain grief for the past two years, ever since Lamarque's government overthrew the neighboring King of Corinth and established a peaceful, democratic rule in that country. Two kingdoms so close together in proximity but so far apart ideologically caused a great split in the land of Musain; those that were loyal to the king, and those that were not, who wanted to follow Lamarque and merge the countries of Musain and Corinth, just as they were in days long past. So far, though, the actions of the Les Amis had no real effect other than inciting the king of Musain to put a price on their heads worth ten times her own. At least that's how things were nine months ago, when she fled; Eponine wonders if time has strengthened the Les Amis' cause with the people.

Finally, she can't help it, and has to know more. "Do you see Marius often?"

"Every day. He is a close friend." The man glances up at her from hooded eyes and asks again, "How have you managed here all on your own?"

"Just lucky, I guess," she says sarcastically. In truth, before her father began working for the king, and before they lived in the city, her family traveled all over the country, making rough camps along the way. She learned quite a bit about survival as a child, and the skills came back to her easily when she needed them.

They lapse back into silence, and Eponine comes to the slow realization that she _does _know exactly who this man is. Marius talked of him often enough, describing the brilliant and enlightened ideas of their leader. His physical description matches, as well.

"Enjolras," she finally says firmly. "Gabriel Enjolras. That's who you are?"

He raises his eyebrows and nods once. "At your service."

"Wonderful. Not only do I have a criminal in my home, but I have the most wanted criminal in country of Musain."

Enjolras hands the bowl and spoon back to her and says politely, completely ignoring her remarks, "Thank you. It was quite good."

"That's all you have to say?"

"Well, it's a bit like the pot calling the kettle black, isn't it? You're a criminal yourself...and the daughter of the second most detestable man in the country." Enjolras' eyes darken as he mentions her father and Eponine bristles.

"Yes, well unfortunately, we can't choose our parents, can we?" Eponine clenches her jaw and resists the urge to punch him in the side.

Eponine's father is now the head of a very special, select branch of the Kingsguard – specifically the branch that has no problem stealing, threatening, murdering, raping, and enforcing the king's laws in whatever ways they deem necessary. It wasn't always so – only three years ago, Thenardier was the head of the most feared gang in the country, living on the streets and quite successfully scaring even the most hardened criminals with his gang of thugs. The king, being quite an intelligent man, and her father, the sycophant that he was, had come to a mutual agreement that benefited both parties – Thenardier and his gang would work for the king, using their considerable muscle and brains to do his bidding, and the king would turn the other cheek when they took a large share of their plunder for themselves. So far, their scheme was working famously. Though they were now an official part of the Kingsguard, most people still referred to them by the same name they were always called – the Patron Minette.

And the man sitting in front of her is the whole reason Eponine is in these damn woods, alone, in the first place, she muses. Nine months ago, at Marius' request, Eponine used her own wealth of thievery skills to sneak the Les Amis into Musain Castle. She expected a much bolder move on their part, like an assassination attempt on the king, Louis-Phillipe, in his sleep; instead, they simply took his damn crown. When she let them into the castle, using only the most secret routes and doors, they were no more than silent shadows in the night, trailing along behind her in the dark. She only knew Marius by the warm, gentle hand he pressed against her arm as they left her to commit their crime. Though she had seen no one else that night, and thought they successfully evaded the guards, _someone _had apparently seen her. Of course, her father gave her an ultimatum when he found out her actions; marry his lackey, Montparnasse, who had weaseled his way even closer to the king than her father, or be thrown into prison and probably executed for treason.

She chose neither option and instead fled, taking with her only what she could safely carry.

"Eponine?" Her eyes snap up to Enjolras as he speaks her name.

"What?" she practically growls.

"Would you like to see Marius again?"

She doesn't answer, but she doesn't need to. She is easy to read when it comes to Marius.

"If you help me get back to my camp when I am better able to move, you'll find him there," Enjolras says gently.

"How do I know you're telling the truth, that you won't turn me in for the reward money the first chance you get?"

Enjolras rolls his eyes. "Come now. Do you honestly believe I would do that now that you know who I am? That Marius would do that?"

"No." Eponine sighs and stands, beginning to pace around the small, cramped room. After a minute, she says incredulously, "This morning I was alone, and now I have you here in my cabin, half-dead, and telling me that if I help you, I get to see someone I care about again. This doesn't seem real."

"It is strange. But life is like that sometimes – unexpected and strange." His eyes are bright as he looks at her, as if he's looking right through her, and Eponine shivers.

"Strange," she repeats.

"So will you help me?"

"I'll help you."

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><p><strong>Please let me know what you think, good or bad!<strong>


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